


Not Really By Chance

by Rogue_Bard



Category: Daredevil (TV), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Crossover Pairings, F/F, First Meetings, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-11
Updated: 2015-06-11
Packaged: 2018-04-03 21:45:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4115989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogue_Bard/pseuds/Rogue_Bard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen is having a shitty day, and it's barely even started. At least coffee makes everything better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Really By Chance

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is what happens when you are at your writing group, stuck on what to write, pick a random tumblr prompt for your prompt tag, and tell your friends to give you two of your fandoms. I highly recommend it.

* * *

 

Late, late, she was running late. Karen slid out of the plodding rain and into the coffee shop around the corner from the office. There wasn’t as much of a line today as usual, probably because she was _so damn late_. Glancing at the specials board as she dug through her purse for her wallet, Karen had a double take. Instead of the normal ‘sell you on the trendy new syrup’ faire, it read;

TODAY YOUR BARISTA IS-  
1.HELLA FUCKING GAY  
2.DESPERATLY SINGLE.  
FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY I RECOMMEND: Give me your phone number.  
  
After taking a moment to process this, Karen’s eyes were drawn to the counter. Behind it stood a slightly distracted looking young woman with thick dark hair in a braid that whipped back and forth as she turned from the counter to the espresso machine and back, pulling drinks. She wasn’t normally the one working mornings. Karen knew Chuck and Randall, the pierced, punky kids who normally open weekdays. This barista seemed to be the only one working at the moment, which probably explained how she’d gotten away with that sign. Questing fingers finding her wallet at last, Karen stepped up to the counter and waited for the barista to finish making the last guy’s order.

“Good morning, welcome to Chexpresso, what can I get you?” The brunette rattled off, barely looking at Karen as she entered information into the till computer.

“Um- two 12oz house drips and an 8oz white mocha with an extra shot of espresso, please.” Karen found her eyes drawn to the woman’s hands. Long, thin fingers danced across the keys to the cash register, snagging the credit card from Karen’s fingertips and running it through the reader. She tore off the tip receipt from the printer and let it fall to the counter as she spun to pull the drinks. Karin stood there for a moment, in awe of her grace. Sure, Karen could pull off grace as well as the next office girl who wore heels for a living, but this woman had something more.

Looking down to fill out the tip receipt, Karen was hit with a sudden urge to write her number at the bottom. What was the worst that could happen? Chexpresso wouldn’t employ an axe murderer. But you could never know, not really, and that thought made Karen sign her name and put the receipt down. There were always ways that a situation could be worse, and she really didn’t need more of that in her life right now.

Going around to the pick-up counter, Karen started fitting the drips into a carrier. Taking the last drink, she smiled at the woman, who started briefly, before smiling back. Her grin brightened her face, and made Karen realize that, frizzy hair aside, she was stunning. Brash enough to write a sign like that, with such beautiful dark brown eyes… Karen headed for the door, still trying to talk herself out of this. And failing.

“(317) 819-5603.” She said, looking back over her shoulder. The barista froze for a moment, washrag dripping onto the counter. Karen smiled again, and said, more slowly, “(317) 819-5603.” As the silence carried on, she was suddenly terrified that she’d taken a joke too far. “I mean- sorry, I- never mind.” She walked towards the door as fast as her awkward load would allow.

“Can I have a name to go with that?” the barista asked, and even without turning around, Karen could tell that she was smiling beatifically again.

“Karen. It’s Karen Page.”

“I’m Laura. And I’ll be seeing you, Karen Page.”


End file.
